MARKING THE 70TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE ATOMIC BOMBINGS OF HIROSHIMA AND NAGASAKI (Scholarships available)

Join us for this national gathering marking the 70th anniversary of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and offer Campaign of Non-Violence promoters and others with significant opportunities to deepen the vision and practice of nonviolent change.

Social Action & Science

Being With DyingThis Professional Training Program for Clinicians in Compassionate Care of the Seriously Ill and Dying is fostering a revolution in care of the dying and seriously ill. Clinicians learn essential tools for taking care of dying people with skill and compassion.

ChaplaincyA visionary and comprehensive two-year program for a new kind of chaplaincy to serve individuals, communities, the environment, and the world.

The name "Three Teachings" was empty right from the start — Miss even one one and all go wrong.Looking inward or outward, see there is no fixed self.Break in the front door, if you want to enter your home.

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Roshi Joan's News, Upcoming Teachings and Travels with Links

Roshi is briefly at Upaya, where she enjoyed having time with John Dunne and his exceptional teachings. She goes to Chaco Canyon on Tuesday with the sangha, and then begins a monthlong of travel and teaching, from Berlin to Hawaii.

Coming Home: A Buddhist Retreat on Easter and Passover + A Retreat on Contemplative Practice and Rituals in Service to the Dying

Description: Register for both "Coming Home" and the "Retreat on Contemplative Practice and Rituals in Service to the Dying" for $890, with all housing and meals included for nine nights (this is a savings of more than $500).

FEATURE ARTICLES

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Burma's Opening Door: Hozan Alan Senauke

The news from Burma this week is encouraging. The doors of freedom continue to open. On January 12, the government of Myanmar and ethnic rebels of the Karen National Union signed a cease-fire and peace agreement that lays the groundwork for the end of a sixty-year insurgency and struggle for greater autonomy. The next day, as hundreds gathered outside prison gates, Burma released 651 inmates, many of them known as prisoners of conscience, including prominent monk U Gambira, “88-Generation” leaders Min Ko Naing and Ko Ko Gyi, former prime minister Khin Nyunt, and other prominent figures.

Later that same day President Obama acknowledged this release as “a substantial step forward for democratic reform.” Secretary of State Hillary Clinton announced an exchange of ambassadors with Myanmar for the first time in 24 years. Clinton said, “This is a lengthy process, and it will, of course, depend on continuing progress and reform. But an American ambassador will help strengthen our efforts to support the historic and promising steps that are now unfolding.”

The government of recently-elected president Thein Sein has made significant efforts towards the opening of society. Instead of former junta’s reflexive and rhetorical hostility towards so-called political prisoners, Thein Sein said yesterday that those released can “play a constructive role in the political process.”

The prospect is at once encouraging and fragile. All the political prisoners have not been released. The total number is itself uncertain. The Assistance Association of Political Prisoners (AAPP) is a respected organization headquartered on the Thai-Burma border, which carefully documents the status of Burmese prisoners. According to AAPP may still be as many as 1500 prisoners of conscience in Burma. There are still hot conflicts in Kachin and Shan states. Reflecting on these conflicts in an interview last week, Aung San Suu Kyi said: ”Unless there is ethnic harmony it will be very difficult for us to build up a strong democracy.” And, needless to say, there is hardly a coherent rule of law in the country.

Recognizing that such changes are in process and remain incomplete, the U.S. government and the EU seem to be looking toward April’s by-elections in Myanmar, elections in which Aung San Suu Kyi is herself planning to stand for parliament, before mitigating or rescinding longstanding economic sanctions.

Among circles of Burma’s friends there has been an ongoing debate about the efficacy of western sanctions. At the risk of over-simplification, one side argues that sanctions by the U.S. and European nations fall most heavily on the shoulders of the Burmese people themselves; that sanctions have obstructed the process of liberalization; and that they have thrown Burma into the arms of Chinese economic and military interests. The other side, taking direction from Aung San Suu Kyi, sees sanctions as an into Burma’s long-term military rulers, and as a withholding of approval/privilege to the regime until ethnic conflict is resolved, political prisoners are released, and internationally-recognized legal principles are enacted.

I tend to fall in the second camp, taking leadership from Aung San Suu Kyi as the point person for legitimate politics in Burma/Myanmar. This debate will probably never end, irrespective of change in Burma. But one could make the case that the sanctions have, in a sense, “worked.” The economic pressures compelled the regime to throw its lot in with China, which has its own strategic and global interests at heart, not the interests of Burma’s peoples. After last year’s elections in Myanmar, it is clear that the new government craves international recognition, and does not wish to see itself subsumed by China’s economic power. So they are looking to the end of western sanction, which calls for liberalization and openness on various fronts.

But still we can hope. At the same time, opening Burma — with its wealth of natural resources, agriculture, and people — to the international market economy will bring its own challenges and contradictions. The sweet things people cherish about Burma’s culture will very likely fade in the transition. One door opens, and another may close.

The Myth of the Teacher: Martine Batchelor

Martine Batchelor joins Buddhist Geeks again, this time to explore the way that the roles of teacher and student are changing in contemporary times. While acknowledging various teacher models in the Buddhist tradition, she lays out the reasons she prefers the good friend, or adviser model that you find in the Theravada and Korean traditions. She speaks about the dangers of priming students as well as the dangers in teachers not acknowledging their own limitations and shortcomings. She then lays out a way of teaching that focuses on the fundamentals of developing concentration and inquiry, instead of focusing on a particular technique of meditation.

This is part 2 of a two-part series.

Vincent: Part of this crossroads that you’re describing I can also see that there's many other things beside just how we orient to practice. There’s all sort of things that are changing with these beautiful traditions as they move into the modern world. And one of the ones that is so fascinating and so interesting has to do with learning, has to do with how we learn, and also with our roles as students, as learners, and then also with teachers. And you’ve spent time in both of these roles. A lot of time both being a student and a teacher. And I’m wondering from your perspective how you see these roles changing and particularly the teacher role as this tradition, as these traditions, basically moved into the modern globalized world?

Martine: First, I think we have to be careful when we talked about teacher in Buddhism, in Buddhist practice. You have different models. You have the guru model. You find more with the Tibetans. You have Zen master model. You find more with the Japanese and then you have what’s called the good friend, good guide model you’ll find more in the Thervada tradition but also in the Korean Zen tradition. So I think also we have to see which model are we in.

Personally, I am more fond of the third model, which is the original model of the Buddha, of the good knowing adviser, the good friend, the guide. So the teacher is not put so much on a pedestal, it’s just somebody who is a human being like yourself and is just going to working in the way but may be a little more advanced. As my teacher used to say, “We are on a train. I may be a little more ahead in the train and you maybe in the back wagon of the train but we’re on the same train. We’re not on a different train.”

So I think it’s very important to see how do, because I think there is such a myth of the teacher, the myth of the teacher. I mean people asked me should I find a teacher, etc. etc. There is a big myth of the teacher. Then as a teacher oneself do we believe in that myth of the teacher because that can create problems too that we think we must be this great teacher. Then we can see we might be a good teacher but my question is more are we a good human being. This is really my question. And also as a teacher I think we have to be very careful how we teach. And personally what I found wonderful and what I really liked with the Garrison conference was that when I met the younger teachers, the ones who had practiced for 20 years. What I really love with the younger teacher was that they are doing it in so many different ways, in so many different places.

In a way I found myself I straight, very young, I went and I became a nun, then I came out, then I was a house cleaner for 10 years to earn money. And then I became a coordinator and then after that I’ve just been a teacher and a writer. So I would in terms of work my life practice is… I kind of don’t know much about working life. When I feel the people I met in that conference really had a lot of this kind of experience of being in the world. And I think we have to be careful not to think that to have a spiritual background is higher than having experience from life. I think both are very useful.

So that’s why I think nowadays because of this more democratic and more egalitarian especially also with men and women teaching, it seems to be so much more creative. That yes we have some teachers that are more the traditional mould. But I found wonderful that people finds many different ways to share the practice.

Because what is more important isn’t that I must be the Teacher, with a big T. And then I need to get Disciples, with a big D, and found a big organization. Or, is it more important that there is this teaching which helps us to develop wisdom and compassion that I can share with others so they might have less suffering. And they can also develop more wisdom and compassion will also not only benefit to themselves but benefit to everybody around them.

So personally I would be more for a teaching model, which actually would be more like what the Buddha taught at the beginning. That after five years the Buddha said you practice for five years, really learn and study and practice for five years and then you go out into the world for the welfare of the many. So I think it depends what kind of teacher we’re talking about.

Vincent: Yes.

Martine: This is very complicated.

Vincent: Yes, it’s very complicated. And it’s interesting because before this interview I wasn’t aware that the Korean way of teaching is different than the sort of Japanese Zen, which is sort more akin in my experience to the guru model. At least may be in the Rinzai tradition. So it’s really interesting to bring up this fact that there are different teacher models even within the Buddhist tradition.

Martine: You see it’s actually cultural. This is what is interesting. It’s cultural. Like in Korea they have much more influence from the Confunist society. So then you have some system which is a little more open-ended in some way. When in Japan, you have much more the samurai, feudal model. And then in India, you have a different model also. So that’s very interesting. In Korea, they’re really about good knowing adviser. They don’t check you all the time like they would do in the Zen tradition in Japan.

Vincent: Nice. And then this is something we’ve explored a little bit on Buddhist Geeks. There’s then the whole western heritage of what a teacher is and there’s all sorts of different models now like we have teachers in academia who are your professors and advisers. And they’re probably more like the guides, the good guides rather than some sort of absolute authority. So it’s really fascinating this whole coming together of different models and ways of approaching learning. I really appreciate your perspectives on this.

Martine: Yeah. Because you see I think in a way it’s also a question of identity. This is the thing, I think when we looked at the teacher is it to see that the teacher is also conditioned, is also conditional. I met once the teacher who was teaching all the time, non-stop. It was so tiring. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The person never stopped. And actually it made me realize we have so many roles. One time, you are lover. Next time, you’re a teacher. Next time, you’re a mother. Next time, you’re a daughter.

So we have different roles as human being. Again, I would say we are multiperspectival. And what I would hope is that actually in all these different form we try to be the best we can. And also I would say with a lot of humility and a lot of seeing that when we teach, as a teacher generally, you have to make it good. You have to make it, you know why meditate. It’s not easy to meditate. So generally you have to say well it will help you with this, it will help you with that. So generally often we present something, which is a bit idealistic. And then if you look at yourself in your life you’re not equanimous all the time and you’re not kind all the time.

And so I think to me what is very important as a teacher is to show that we are human beings like everybody else. And that sometimes we do things which really live up to what we hope, to our intention and that all the time we actually don’t live up to that. And to see, why don’t we? Because of conditions. Being a teacher doesn’t mean you will be fantastic all the time. But at the same time not “Oh, I am teacher. I’m not looking at what is difficult.” On the contrary to look at what is difficult and also to see that the disciple, you learn so much from the people. I mean I learned so much from people on retreat. The questions asked and the experiences. And so a teacher is not made suddenly because of one experience. But a teacher is made from that being a listener as much as somebody who talks and also somebody who can creatively engage with the condition.

Vincent: Beautiful. So there is a sense of it being a teacher as more of a work-in-progress and there is more in way you’re describing sharing of one’s humanity to the students so that it’s clear. “Okay, just because I’m teaching doesn’t mean I have this all figured out or worked out in some way.”

Martine: Exactly. Exactly. I think it is so important. But another thing personally which is one of my kind of things about being a teacher, what I think we have to be really careful is what I called “priming.” That we have to become aware that as a teacher, especially on a retreat, especially on the silent retreat, the only thing they hear is you and you can really influence the experience of the people.

And I think we have to be really clear about what is it that I’m doing here. How am I influencing these people? How am I responding to what I’m creating. And I know for myself when I teach I’m very careful of not priming—I mean we all do some priming to some extent when we teach. We cannot do so much about this, but too really be careful because people are really influencible, really suggestible. I think one has to be very careful.

That’s why when I teach I’m like a multi-choice teacher. I said, “Oh, you might experience this or that or another thing.” I kind of try to present different things so that they don’t think, “okay it must be like this. I must experience this.” I really tried to make them see… I mean my job as a teacher I feel is for the person to become their own teacher. So that for them to see I am the one who knows the best about what’s going on. I don’t know as a teacher what they feel or what they think. They really know it so there actually I can give suggestion but then they have to apply them to their own condition. And they are the best knower of their condition.

Vincent: In some ways I hear what you’re describing as a kind of, it’s almost a meta- point of view in that you’re teaching people how to teach themselves instead of necessarily teaching people a specific skill set. Although, you’re doing that as well, aren’t you?

Martine: Yes, I am doing that but the way I present it, if I teach a breath or anything I teach even the questioning. Like when I teach the questioning, what is this?–at the end of my presentation of instruction on how to do it, I would say there are own three types of people when they encounter this practice. The first one really likes it. The second one thinks it’s a stupid question and I think don’t do it and the third one might become anxious and then do it just a little.

So I’m presenting that it’s not the same for everybody. Because personally, I believe whatever we say generally only 60%-70% of the people will be able to apply. People sometimes say the breath, this is it. But if you are asthmatic focusing on the breath is not a good idea. And so I think it’s very important not to be so dogmatic or so kind of, “this is the way.” Personally, I generally present lots of different things and then give each thing in different ways. So that then it’s for them to explore and to find “Ah, maybe that way it works or maybe it doesn’t work.” And they do it themselves.

Vincent: Okay. Cool. And then you know you’re getting into this already but I think it’s important to also ask, how does this change our experience of being students or being learners? The way you’re describing, the way you teach you’re expecting very different things from the people who are learning from you. You’re not expecting them to take the instructions, one set of instructions and just do them without asking questions. And then to have certain universal experiences like everyone who does this should experience this. You’re sort of expecting people to start to ask their own question and learn. That’s a different type of expectation.

So it would be interesting to talk about what is it take to be a student in this new way that you’re describing because I think both it’s been done a long time but then there’s plenty of example of it not being this way, of people learning a particular thing and finding The Truth, you know, in capital letters.

Martine: Yeah. Because you see the thing that I don’t believe in capital Truth.

Vincent: Yeah. I totally get that.

Martine: No truth. I mean I never talk about the Truth especially not with a big T.

Well you see I think the people are a little self-selected, because people will come to our retreat, or to my retreat they, like this approach. They’re people who are generally a little independent. They’re generally self-reliant. And they generally like it. They kind of like to kind of explore. They like to be able to explore. Often when I tell them you can do it this way or that way in order or not do it and then you can do it this way. They said to me, “It’s such a relief.” A lot of people who have problems with the breath because they become tense with the breath, it’s such a relief for them when I tell them to just listen to the sound and that’s as good. And then they still come to me, “But it might not be as good as the breath. But I tell them, “It’s the same.”

Because you see the thing is what I point at before I start anything teaching is that for me what is important is not the technique but it’s the fact that we cultivate together the concentration and the inquiry, the samatha and the vipassana. You see I did Zen meditation for 10 years and then I did vipassana meditation. And what I realized is that in Zen meditation I was also did samatha and vipassana, just in a different way. And that’s when I realized it’s not the method. It’s the fact that we cultivate concentration and inquiry together which is then going to make the difference. Because by cultivating concentration and inquiry together, you are then going to develop creative awareness and creative engagement. And that’s why personally I don’t worry so much about the exact technique because I am more interested in them developing samatha and vipassana, whatever way it is. Because what I think is important is to develop the calm and the clarity.

But I believe that the way concentration works is actually by returning, not by staying with the thing all the time. So that each time you return you’re not feeding your habit, and you dissolve the power. And that’s what will create some spaciousness. And then with the questioning what I believe is that by cultivating the questioning, you’re dissolving the tendency we have to permanentize, by becoming more aware of change.

So I put the thing backward that I go back to more what is the fundamentals and I’m less interested in the technique. And so when I say that to the people I say, “What I think is important is that you can find a technique whatever it is which together you can cultivate concentration and inquiry.” And so once I start in that way then it’s kind of generally very clear and it’s not confusing. And what is interesting is that it works. Because you see, to me, what is important is not the truth. What is important is the grasping. Because what is it that stops us is grasping. And so I believe that by cultivating the concentration and the inquiry then the grasping doesn’t happen, and then we can be creatively engaged in the world.

Growing Into Practice: Rev. Danny Fisher

My first encounter with Buddhism—at age eighteen—frightened me terribly. I'd gone to the movies with friends to see Martin Scorsese's biopic of His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama, Kundun. At university as a film major at the time, I certainly knew who Scorsese was, but Lord Buddha and the Dalai Lama were unknown to me. I found the movie to be a richly cinematic work. It presented a lot of good information and a sad history—and it is was a particularly wonderful introduction to both Buddhist life and the Sino-Tibetan conflict.

Yet I found myself haunted by one quote near the end, taken from Śāntideva's Bodhicaryāvatāra:

My foes will become nothing. My friends will become nothing. I too will become nothing. Likewise all will become nothing.

Just like a dream experience, Whatever things I enjoy Will become a memory. Whatever has passed will not be seen again.

Later at dinner, as my friends rhapsodized about the film's beautiful production design and shot composition, I sat quietly picking at a salad I couldn't eat. That quote had taken away my appetite.

At bedtime, the lines replayed themselves in my head, bringing death to the fore. That's when the fear came on—and came on strong. It's happening again, I thought to myself. I can feel it, the terror. I'm like a child frightened by strange noises in the night. There would be no begging my way out of it: I was in the throes of a waking nightmare. All the hallmarks were there—a racing mind, a pounding heart, a sinking stomach. Please, no. Not again. Please. That night would be but one in a long succession of sleepless nights.

This intense restlessness always started the same way, with the thought of death. Fright easily found me then, for I had wandered into adulthood without making any sort of peace with the inevitability, mystery and finality of death. First, my mind would frantically go to work: When will I die? How? What happens after that? Is there any sort of continuum of consciousness? Do I even have a tangible, individual consciousness—a soul? Faced with these mounting and largely unanswerable questions, terror would cause my heart rate to rise. With no framework for tackling these thoughts, my fear would only intensify. The experience would become entirely visceral, guts twisting and turning. It's happening again. From a very young age, I had sensed that nothing and no one lasts forever, that the promise of permanence or immortality was wishful thinking. But now I was stuck—really, terribly stuck. I didn't know how to live with the truth of impermanence and be unafraid.

It would be another couple of months (and more sleepless nights) before it dawned on me to look to Buddhism for help, and it happened almost by accident. In a bookstore one day, a copy of The World of Tibetan Buddhism caught my eye, and a twinge of frustration arose. On the cover was the book's author, His Holiness, smiling brightly. Like so many others, I was immediately struck by how genuinely happy the man seemed. But I was also confused: How can he be so deeply aware of the inescapable truth that everything must die, and yet remain happy? I purchased the book, determined to figure out how he and all these other Buddhists were tricking themselves into peace.

Instead of tricks, what I found was the path of practice. Studying the Dharma means practice, after all, and asks us not only to think about the teachings but to embody them. Since I was someone who took a cerebral approach to suffering (and pretty much everything else), this utterly tangible methodology for "waking up," achieving true fearlessness, was nothing short of revelatory.

What quickly emerged as the most nourishing aspect of my practice was the quality His Holiness so beautifully teaches and lives, the wish for others to experience freedom from suffering. As I watered the seeds of compassion in my own life, my anxieties began to diminish significantly. Sure, Buddhist philosophy appealed to my intellect and was crucial in cultivating a proper view (I changed majors from film to religious studies at this point) but compassion began to take me out of my own head and open up my heart.

Inspired by other engaged Buddhists like Thich Nhat Hanh, A. T. Ariyaratne, Sulak Sivaraksa, Maha Ghosananda, and Aung San Suu Kyi, I began to devote myself to service for the first time in my life. I explored everything from nursing home visits to environmental work. I sat quietly with a dying woman, plucked garbage from a local river, and made myself more available to friends and acquaintances when they needed to talk. One of His Holiness's teachings began to resonate:

The moment you think only of yourself, the focus of your whole reality narrows, and because of this narrow focus, uncomfortable things can appear huge and bring you fear and discomfort and a sense of feeling overwhelmed by misery. The moment you think of others with a sense of caring, however, your view widens. Within that wider perspective, your own problems appear to be of little significance, and this makes a big difference.

I had felt utterly alone on those sleepless nights, like a freak, the only suffering person in the world. Compassion began to show me how connected I was to others. I resonated with the Buddhist story of Kisa Gotami—a mother in ancient India whose child had tragically died. She begged of the Buddha to revive her son. The Buddha agreed to her plea, saying that she need only bring him a mustard seed from a household that had never experienced loss. As Kisa Gotami searched, she began to see the pervasiveness of impermanence and suffering. Each family she visited had lost someone—a parent, a grandparent, a sibling, a child. As she traveled from home to home, Kisa Gotami began to awaken to the truth. Her son's parting gift was to show his mother not how much smaller her world had become but how much larger it really was.

Not unlike Kisa Gotami, I was able to grow thanks to the blessings of precious teachers who revealed themselves along the path. "Remember, just the offering of care is care," one clinical chaplaincy supervisor told me, helping me to keep in check my neurotic need to "fix" things. "Compassion is the feeling experienced by a mother who has no arms and sees her child drowning," one of my Tibetan Buddhist teachers told me. With the benefit of careful instructions like these, I have cultivated compassion in such a way that my own inner strength has also developed and freed me from paralyzing fear.

I've learned not only from my practice and my teachers but also from those I have served. Sitting with a dying woman one night as she told me the story of her rather tragic life, she stopped mid-sentence, leaned forward and said, "You know, you don't have to look so sad when people tell you these things." She helped me discover the importance of being both an empathetic presence as well as a steady, even-tempered and useful one.

Two years after that screening of Kundun, near the start of the new millennium, I found myself studying abroad as a student in Antioch Education Abroad's Buddhist Studies in India program. The sleepless nights were gone. I was no longer haunted by the unknown. I could face fear directly, and I had Buddhism to thank. Standing in a line at the McLeod Ganj residence of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, waiting to meet the man himself, I remember thinking: If anything is going to encourage me to stick with the practice and continue to learn and grow, it's going to be this moment. Finally face-to-face with him, I was wide-eyed and emotional—delightfully discombobulated by the sheer joy and compassion contained in his being. I understood then why his office arranges these brief and seemingly unnecessary meetings: he is the real deal and it is instantly—and I mean instantly—apparent. He looked into me, curious. I could only choke out the words, "Thank you, thank you." I didn't even know where to begin. But he wasn't confused. With glowing eyes and a slight, perceptive smile, he squeezed my hand gently, and I was on my way.

About the AuthorRev. Danny Fisher is an ordained lay Buddhist minister and a professor and coordinator of the Buddhist Chaplaincy Program at University of the West. In 2009 he became the first-ever Buddhist member of the National Association of College and University Chaplains. He has blogged and written for Shambhala Sun, elephantjournal.com, Tricycle, Religion Dispatches, The Journal of Buddhist Ethics, The Journal of Religion & Film, and many other publications. His award-winning website is www.dannyfisher.org.

Happy Tet / Chinese New Year! — Britton Gildersleeve

When I was a child, living in Việt Nam, Tết (Việtnamese New Year) was celebrated with Chinese New Year. We (children were welcome — even American children!) burned clothing for the dead, brilliantly red dresses and robes and hats and even shoes, each the colour of luck, gilded w/ prosperous gold. We also burned paper money, so the dead would be able to continue in the afterlife in comfort. Those are all customs of Chinese New Year, or Tết, as it’s known in many countries.

Chinese New Year has had a profound impact on many countries, not just China. It shapes the celebration of religious holidays, like Buddhist New Year, but also insinuates its colourful customs and traditions into countries with only small numbers of Chinese citizens. This year — like many — the US has even issued a stamp, honouring the Chinese astrological sign for the year: the Year of the Dragon.

It’s a lovely holiday, spanning two weeks that this year begin on January 23rd. On New Year’s Eve, families will feast — much like we do on January 1st. And they party, complete w/ firecrackers (after all, they’re a Chinese invention dating back to the 7th century). All of this is a welcome break after days of cleaning house and sweeping away all the past year’s accumulation of bad luck. New clothes are bought, haircuts are in order, and a liberal use of good-luck red is everywhere, including the red packets of money given as presents.

There is, in fact, a ‘map’ of what is done the 15 days of New Year’s, complete w/ special foods, clothing, and places to visit. Red — the colour of luck, happiness, joy — is everywhere. Lucky plum blossoms and prosperity-bringing narcissus are the flowers of the moment. Many of these traditions are centuries old, and all are invoked with love and laughter. Rich with colour and ritual, it’s a holiday that rings in the New Year for Chinese all over the world, Buddhist, Taoist, Confucian and agnostic .

As with Mahayana and Theravadin Buddhist New Year celebrations, altars are refurbished, cleaned for the New Year. Buddhists often go meatless the first day of the New Year, hoping it will confer longevity. Certainly it doesn’t hurt!

The lead-in to Tết can last weeks. Family altars are cleaned and new offerings placed upon them. Food is bought in huge quantities, since shops will be closed during the holidays. Much of the first day of Tết is spent in rituals: the first visitor, the New Year’s feast, a conscious intention to start this new and unspoiled new year off well.

At the heart of Tết is preparing for a better new year: spiritually (through visits to temple), w/ the family (celebrating with reunions and family feasts), in learning (the third day of Tết honours teachers!)… Great attention is given to welcoming the New Year in as friendly and auspicious a fashion as possible.

So clean the house in preparation. Cook a great meal. Set out flowers and use lucky scarlet-red liberally. Invite over your friends. Place red envelopes w/ a token at each plate. Make sure your spiritual house is in order — clean your house altar, if you have one, and make an offering to your church or temple.

Then see if you can locate a local dragon dance; they’re surprisingly common in the U.S. Is it spiritually Buddhist? As much as my city’s Festival of Lights is about the birth of Jesus and Christmas. And it’s certainly as much fun!

Trauma Resiliency Training, March 20-22

Join Laurie Leitch and Elaine Miller-Karas at Upaya for this workshop/training. Click here to register.__________

Today’s counselors and caregivers are increasingly recognizing the limitations of talk in trying to ease the suffering of their clients. The symptoms that can result from highly stressful and traumatic events can be wide-ranging and profound and can include emotional, cognitive, behavioral, physical and spiritual effects.

Current neuroscience research has highlighted the importance of the psychophysiological patterns that underlie a wide variety of traumatic stress responses. These patterns often cannot be helped by talk alone. In fact, research has shown that the certain parts of the thinking center of the brain go “off-line” during stress and following traumatic events.

Instructors

Laurie Leitch, PhD, cofounder of the Trauma Resource Institute, has conducted clinical trainings at hospitals, social service agencies, conferences, and grassroots agencies. She has extensive experience in cross-cultural research and practice, and conducts training and research internationally on restoring resiliency after trauma.

Elaine Miller-Karas, LCSW, is the Director of Training and Education for the Trauma Resource Institute (TRI). She is also on the faculty at Arrowhead Regional Medical Center’s Family Residency Program and has a private psychotherapy practice. She has been on disaster response teams in Thailand (post-tsunami) and Louisianna (post-hurricane). Most recently she presented a workshop on Trauma First Aide in Nairobi, Africa at the Conference on Female Genital Mutilation.

The Jewel of Teachers: Great opportunity at Upaya

We have invited a series of teachers to be with Upaya's residents and guest practitioners this coming year. This has been at the request of our residents, who are taking more responsibility in bringing forth what they feel will serve. This is a new and exciting approach for us, to deepen our love of the dharma through the eyes of a special selected group of teachers.

Ways to be at Upaya: Path of Service, Guest Practitioner, Volunteer

There are many ways to deepen your practice and spend time at Upaya. One way is the Path of Serviceprogram. Upaya is accepting applications for our Path of Service resident program, inviting practitioners to live and serve here from three months to a year or more. For more information and to apply click here or contact: pos@upaya.org

Please visit this web page on our site to learn more about other options for staying at Upaya, including personal retreats, work exchange, and more.